


Dona Nobis Pacem

by time_converges



Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: Angst, Episode Tag, F/M, Gen, Grief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2015-02-22
Packaged: 2018-03-14 15:42:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3416276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/time_converges/pseuds/time_converges
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joan is fine.  If only everyone would believe her.  Spoilers for 3x12 (Hemlock), 3x13 (The Female of the Species) and 3x14 (When Your Number is Up).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dona Nobis Pacem

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for 3x12 (Hemlock), 3x13 (The Female of the Species) and 3x14 (When Your Number is Up).

                Joan sat on the sofa in her apartment as Sherlock rummaged through her kitchen, presumably trying to find something to fix for her to eat.  On the ride back from the hospital he had been uncharacteristically quiet, but he hadn’t even listened to her protests that he should go, that she’d be fine.  She blinked away the tears in her eyes.  No, she wouldn’t cry.  This was all her fault, there was no time for tears.

                Elana March.  It had to be.  How could she have been so stupid as to let her guard down?  And now Andrew--  she shook her head. No. No tears, especially not in front of Sherlock.  His concern for her was like an aura around him, and she wouldn’t add to that.

                She blinked as he set down a plate of eggs and toast, and sat down next to her on the sofa.   She willed her hands not to shake as she took a few bites.

                “Thank you,” she said, as she put down the fork and pushed the plate away.  “I’m fine, really. You can go.”

                He shook his head.  “I can stay as long as you need me to.”

                She forced a small smile.  “I’m fine.  I’m just going to go to sleep.  You go back to the precinct and see what they’re doing, okay?”

                “Watson—“

                “Please, Sherlock.  I’m fine.  I’m going to go to sleep, I promise.”

                He hesitated, but finally nodded.  “Very well.  I’ll be here in the morning with breakfast.  Please, if you need anything, call or text me, I’ll be right here.”

                She nodded, getting up quickly so he wouldn’t see the tears in her eyes.   “Thank you.”

                Later, in the dark, alone, she finally let the tears fall.  Sleep did not follow.

 

***

 

                The funeral was like a nightmare – so many people asking how she was doing, telling her stories about Andrew.  She wanted to scream at them –didn’t they know it was her fault he was dead?  Her fault.  If he hadn’t met her, he’d still be here, alive and well, with all of his friends and family.  Sherlock hovered nearby, close, but not touching her.  She was glad  - she was afraid if he touched her, she’d shatter into a million pieces.  Marcus and Gregson were there, and thankfully willing to let her divert the discussion to the investigation, not to how she was doing.   She had convinced her mother not to come.

                Sherlock cooked dinner for her again, and stayed until she fell into a fitful sleep.

 

***

 

                Her mother showed up at her apartment two days later.  Joan knew she shouldn’t have ignored so many calls from her after the funeral.

                “Mom, I’m fine, really.  I’m taking a few days off but then I’m going back to work.”

                “Can’t a mother worry about her daughter?  Are you eating?”

                “Sherlock keeps bringing me food, so, yes, I’m eating.”

                Her mother glanced around the untidy apartment, but didn’t comment.  “I saw the police car downstairs.  You’re being careful?”

                “Of course.  I’ll be perfectly safe.”   Now that I’m taking precautions that I should have taken sooner, she thought, but didn’t say.

                “Do you want me to stay?  Tidy up for you?  Do your laundry?  Cook something?”

                “Mom, I’m fine.  You don’t need to stay.”

                She looked skeptical, but her mother finally nodded.  “All right.  Call me if you want me to do anything, okay?”

                “We’ll do lunch next week, okay, Mom?”

                “Very well, next week.”

                Joan managed not to cry when her mother hugged her.  When she opened the freezer to find all the food Sherlock had left for her, she let the tears fall.

 

***

 

                                She fell asleep on the sofa, with the TV still on, and Sherlock working quietly at her desk.  When she awoke she found sleep had overtaken him there, at the desk.  How tired must he be, to have slept like that, she wondered.  How worried about her must he be?  She watched him sleep for a few minutes – a rare enough opportunity to observe him at rest.  But she wasn’t going to pass up an equally rare opportunity to awaken him.  She did fix a little breakfast for them both – he had taught her that much at least.  If one awakens one’s companion, one must feed them.

 

***

 

                She forced herself to tidy up, finally, and to go to the grocery store.  She was fine, really.  Just because everything in the apartment reminded her of Andrew didn’t mean she wasn’t fine.   She should have known that she couldn’t have a separate life from her work, not without putting those people in danger.  She had been careless, but she wouldn’t be again, especially after the new threat from Elana.

                Her phone rang after Sherlock left with the postcard, and she hesitated before answering.  Emily.  But if she didn’t answer, eventually she’d just show up, like her mother did.

                “Emily!”  She forced some cheer into her voice, but it rang false even to her own ears.

                “Joan!  I’m so glad you answered.  How are you doing?”

                “I’m fine, really.  Back at work and everything.”  
                “Joanie—“

                “Did my mother call you?”

                Emily sighed.  “She’s worried about you.  And so am I.  Do you want me to come over so we can talk?”

                “No, no, I’m fine.  I’m just heading out to work anyway,” she lied.  “We’ll do a movie or something next week, okay?”

                “Joanie—“

                “I’m fine, really.  Thanks for checking on me.”

                Emily sighed again.  “Okay, but I’m holding you to the movie,  you know that, right?”

                “Of course.  See you later.”  She disconnected quickly, so that Emily wouldn’t hear the tears in her voice.

 

***

 

                She abandoned arranging the furniture in the basement – she would have to wait for Sherlock to move out some of his experiments – and found him upstairs in the kitchen fixing them some dinner.

                “Watson!  There you are.  Will you do the salad while I finish this up?”

                “Sure, just let me wash up.”

                “I’ll clear out the basement this week, then I can help you get settled if you like,” he said, looking at her sidelong as he cooked.

                “Thanks, that would be great.”

                “My other offer still stands, you know,” he said.

                “Other offer?”

                “To serve as your counsel, if you wish to talk.  About anything. Anytime.”

                “Oh.”   She concentrated on chopping the carrots, then put the knife down and turned to him.  “Andrew died because of me.”

                He slid the pan off of the stove and turned to her.  “I know you believe that.”

                “It’s true though.  He would still be alive if he didn’t know me.  Or if I had been more careful.”

                “Do not assume responsibility for a sociopath.”

                “I was breaking up with him,” she said.   “Right there, right before he died. That’s the last thing he knew, was that I didn’t love him.”

                Sherlock was silent, but shifted closer to her.

                “He was a good man.  He deserved—“  She couldn’t finish.  She choked on a sob, and covered her face.

                Sherlock touched her shoulder gently.  “Joan—“

                “Oh God,” she said, turning to him, and letting him put his arms around her as she sobbed.  She relaxed into his embrace, and let it go, finally.  Let go of all the pain and rage, and sadness, until she couldn’t cry any more. 

                That night, she finally slept.

               


End file.
